Australian army nurses Lieutenant Janice Bers had been sent to northern Sumatra as part of the multi-national peace-keeping force. Initially, she worked at a field hospital based at Medan's Polinia airport. After three weeks, Lieutenant Bers was assigned to a small medical team. This team was to support a Malaysian army unit that had begun operating about forty kilometres south west of Medan. The team flew by helicopter to the Malaysian’s base camp. They were on a small hill overlooking a small village comprising of rows of traditional houses and narrow dusty lanes. There were dozens of trucks and armoured vehicles on the hill, with soldiers all about setting up tents and digging entrenchments. There was also barb wire fences being strung and soldiers huddled over machine guns around the perimeter.

A Malaysian officer greeted the medical team and directed them to where a half-dozen soldiers were clearing scrub away for the teams tents. He pointed out the water point and where the toilets had been dug. He also gestured to where the helo-pad was being cleared on flat ground towards the road. The soldiers were marking it out so it could be clearly seen, even at night. The Malaysian officer also briefed them on the tactical situation, saying the village had already been cleared of rebels and most of the Malaysian troops were out patrolling around the newly established based. There had been some fleeting contacts with the rebels and a few gunshots exchanged, but no casualties. Most of the Malaysian would remain out over night, so head quarters personnel would be responsible for guarding their base for a while. There were soldiers positioned around the aid stations, so they were well protected. They were told not to leave the perimeter except under escort.

The medical team members quickly set up the aid station. It comprised two tents, one for treatment, and the other for sleeping. Both tents were covered in camouflage netting and were hard to make out, even a short distance away. Trencher were dug and lined with sand bags for them to shelter in case they were attacked. And sentries were posted throughout the night.

There were two casualties the first day. One soldier had cut his hand while laying barb wire and another had collapsed after becoming dehydrated. Both returned to work after minor treatment. Another solider was airlifted straight from the field to hospital after tripping an anti-personnel mine. One of the reasons for the advanced aid station was so that emergency treatment would be close at hand in case inclement weather prevented the helicopters from flying. When the peace keepers first deployed to Sumatra there had been a number of incidents where injured soldiers had died because the helicopters could not find them in the blinding rain. However, the weather remained fine, except for afternoon showers.

Additional Malaysian troops arrived the following day, along with a large number of Indonesian soldiers. The soldiers fanned out through the countryside seeking rebel fighters. There were further skirmishes and injured personnel to be treated at the aid station. Some of the soldiers had rolled up their sleeves because of the heat, only to receive deep gashed from thorns as they crawled along the ground. One young Malaysian was brought in with a terrible gunshot wound to the head, with brain tissue exposed. All the medical team could do was carefully dress the wound and treat him for shock. The young man was conscious all the time and in great pain. He would survive, but only time would tell how much he would recover. The aid station experienced a steady flow of casualties, fortunately most were only lightly injured.

The Malaysian officer who had met them when they first arrived, came to see them a few days later. He told then that the troops had come across a large number of sick and injured in the village and wondered if the medical team could help could help. The surgeon in charge of the aid station agreed. However, he ordered half of the medical team to remain behind in case any casualties arrived. The other members of the team were driven the short distance to the village, accompanied by a dozen well-armed Malaysian infantry. As they meandered through the narrow village streets, they could see at close hand the devastation and suffering of the locals. The house were pot marked with shell and shot, some burnt down and roofs torn off others. The locals were picking over the ruins and making repairs as best they could.  However, nothing prepare them for the sight at the clinic. There were injured people, some quietly moaning and rocking back and forth, and and small children crying along side their sick parents. Many were covered in bloody and soiled clothes, with an overwhelming stench.  Lieutenant Bers observed they forlorn look in those laying outside as they arrived.

Covering their faces the team members carefully walked through the throng. Over coming their initial sock they began to work systematically, as their training dictated. Applying ‘triage principles,’ they sorted the ailing before them into those who had the best chance of survival, those who could wait for treatment and those whom they could only make comfortable. Many were dehydrated, so they had the soldiers brought jerry cans of clean water. Moving about the injured, Lieutenant Bers offered sips of water, redressed wounds and placed the patients in more comfortable positions. She administered what medication there was at hand and made lists of what additional supplies they would need. Those patients requiring surgery or other treatment were tagged, to be transported as soon as they had the means.

Within a few hours, what had been a sight of despair became a little more orderly. Many of the patients were treated and helped on their way with their families. The Malaysians arranged for trucks to transport others to Medan for treatment. Locals were rallied to help clean up the clinic. Broken glass was swept up, walls and floors washed, and the sewage overflow shovelled away and covered with disinfectant. Wearing bananas as face masked, Malaysian soldiers gathered and buried the dead.

During the night there was a savage fight, as Indonesian government troops ambushed fleeing rebels. Some of the rebels stood their ground and fought almost to the last. A dozen government soldiers, along with five wounded rebels were brought to the aid station. After the long day at the village clinic, the medical team members spent most of the night dealing with these new casualties. They cleaned out shrapnel wounds and cut out damaged tissue around gunshot penetrations to prevent infection. Many of the injured suffered from shock, and had to be oxygenated and have alkaline solutions added intravenously. At one stage they ran short of plasma, so organised field transfusions from those bringing in the casualties. Helicopters landed and took off through the night taking the more urgent cases onto hospital.

Over the following days, there were frequent clashes between government troops and rebels. The Malaysian troops had been ordered to avoid any major engagements and to leave the fighting to the Indonesians. Even so, they continued to suffer casualties too. It seemed the rebels did not want to abandon their refugee without a struggle. Lieutenant Bers regularly heard strike aircraft regularly flew over the area, followed by loud booms and struck the rebels.

Members of the medical team spent what spare time they had at the clinic. More locals came to the clinic each day. Some were victims of the upsurge in fighting, others merely came because they had heard they could receive help at the clinic. Two or three members of the medical team were at the clinic most of the time, along with volunteers from the Malaysian unit. An Indonesian Government health team was suppose to arrive soon. In the meanwhile they did what they could.

Towards the end of the first week, a family arrived with a very sick baby boy. Through an interpreter, they explained the baby belonged to another family who had asked them to bring the infant to the clinic. When pressed for details about the infant’s parents, they became vague. They mentioned meeting the baby’s parents at an encampment in the hills, where they had fled to escape the fighting. They did not know the family’s name or where they were from. The interpreter suggested that the baby’s parents may have felt they could not be burdened with a sick child. Rather than simple abandon the infant, they had offered money for him to be delivered to the centre.

The infant was very ill. He was suffering from a high temperature and struggling to breathe. He was under nourished and dehydrated. Lieutenant Bers estimated him to be about four weeks old. With no name, they called him baby Susar, which was Indonesian for ‘stray.’ He maintained a quite whimper, and only seemed at ease when held. An intravenous drip was placed in his arm. They also dosed him up on antibiotics to help fight off infection. The infant was so emaciated that he could not even drink from a bottle. A nasal-gastric tube was inserted so they could give him electrolyte fluid. Lieutenant Bers also moisten his lips and face with a damp cloth. There was little else they could do, and she had other patients to attend to.

As the day progressed, it became clear that baby Susar was dying. The surgeon said his little body was unable to fight off the ravaging infection. As he lay, baby Susar’s eyes would open and shut, and his arms and legs move slightly, as he had no strength for anything else. The surgeon examined him regularly, but could only note the slow deterioration. They did what they could to make him comfortable. Every so often, one of the team members checked on baby Susar and wipe his face with a soft damp cloth.

Towards evening, the surgeon again open baby Susar’s blanket to listened to his lungs and heart. He could only remark that he was surprised baby Susar had survived this long. Lieutenant Bers removed the intravenous drip and nasal tube, as it was an incumbence now. She rewrapped baby Susar, and held him in her arms. He looked so very small. He was not heavy, so she could move about while checking on the other patients. Without thinking she found herself softly humming lullabies, although, baby Susar could have known little of what was occurring. He must have felt the human warmth and closeness, as eventually he settled into a stilted sleep. While carrying him, Lieutenant Bers could feel his regular, but slowly shallowing breathing.

Lieutenant Bers was cradling baby Susar as night fell. One of the other nurses asked Lieutenant Bers if she wanted a break. Without realising it, she had been holding baby Susar for over an hour. Over the next hour the infant’s breaths slowed and finally stopped. The Surgeon did not need to check when Lieutenant Bers quietly announced baby Susar had died. She did not put him down straight away, but continued her rounds singing lullabies.

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li, Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Hush, now don't you cry!

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li, Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, That's an Irish lullaby.

This was the same songs she sang to her own children to sleep with.

Finally, she laid baby Susar down. Together with one of the other nurses, they gently washed the frail body and wrapped him in fresh linen, which they pined around him. They shrouded his face with the flap of the improvised gown. Without a word, a medical technician took up the dead infant and went out side. He enlisting the aid of one of the Malaysian sentries and fetched a shovel. Together they walked to the village cemetery and dug a small grave. Baby Susar would lie with others from the surrounding district, whose names were also unknown. The vigorous bush would quickly reclaim the ground so by next season there would be no trace of the hasty burial.

Before Lieutenant Bers left Sumatra, there were to be many other trying times. On occasions, there was no time to shroud the dead and they had to be piled them into a mass grave before their bodies could spread disease to the living. Although, whenever Lieutenant Bers thought of Sumatra in the future, the face of baby Susar would come to mind. She saw baby Susar in her dreams, looking pained and dying in her arms all over again, and would wake sad and disconcerted. Why should her thoughts turn to a small baby, who was with her for such a brief period?

Lieutenant Bers was required to see a counsellor after she return to Australia, as were all returning service personnel. The counsellor said the suffering of an infant would be traumatic in any circumstance. Lieutenant Bers had children herself, who were not much older than the unknown baby. ‘It’s easier to relate to something you can identify with when faced with overwhelming suffering,’ offered the counsellor. Assuring her that her reactions were normal, the psychologist suggested she speak about her experiences and not keep them to herself.  Baby Susar continued to visit Janice in her dreams, but increasingly he was smiling and soundly sleeping in her arms.

Published in Readers Paradise, Indian Ocean Books, Perth, 1998.

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